


Every Step

by FoxVII



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas watches Dean fuck someone else, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Protective Cas, Stalker cas, Voyeurism, dean/ofc but she's not really the focus, what it says on the tin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 17:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21413818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxVII/pseuds/FoxVII
Summary: In his defence, 'watching' was part of his job description. Until one day, it wasn't.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	Every Step

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Medha and Amie for the beta!!! <3

In his defence, 'watching' was part of his job description.

For a long time, angels were forbidden to engage with humanity directly. Castiel's duty was to watch, to guard, and to answer prayers under specific circumstances.

Mostly, his job was to wait for orders.

Until one day, finally, the order did come. 

Raising a soul from Hell wasn't a difficult task from a technical standpoint. There weren't many steps involved. Recreate the body, descend, retrieve the soul, and replace it into the remade shell. 

Souls, however,were tricky things. They were effectively limitless power given sentience. Interactions with souls tended to come with...unexpected side effects. Thus they were handled only by their lord father himself. After His departure, souls were created and sent to earth in an elaborate self-sustained system that no angel could make heads nor tails of. 

Souls were neither solid, liquid, nor gaseous. They were somehow none of the above, and all three at once. The first time Castiel held one was that day in Hell as he stood over the bodies of his fallen brethren and cupped Dean Winchester close to his chest.

Dean was stunning. The fires of Hell had blackened what was once pristine, but somehow the remaining purity was all the more beautiful for it. Tendrils of light clung to his fingers, dripped over his wrists, and reached for his grace; for the protection that Dean instinctively knew he’d find from the angel. 

Dean’s soul was warm against his palms, flickering like a hummingbird’s wings and Castiel held him closer. Curiously, a curl of his grace reached out to brush against the soul’s outer cornea.. Immediately images flooded his mind, memories flashing through, one after another, as fast as a slideshow.

Within the space of a breath, Castiel knew Dean. He knew his life. His hardships. His desires. His strength.

The darkness of a thousand demons began to close in around him and he threw his wings outward, obliterating the smoke around him. How  _ dare _ they; how dare  _ anyone _ attempt to hurt this soul.  _ His _ soul.

He gripped Dean tight to him and rose from the pit.

And so it was that _ Dean Winchester was saved. _

***

After that, he was allowed direct contact with humanity. Or rather, a few specific members thereof. That being said, he never broke out of the habit of watching and waiting. 

He had more orders now, what with the threat of the apocalypse looming over their heads, but they weren’t all-consuming. When he did have time; he silently stayed with his charge.

He was there to watch as Dean slept, or ate, or showered; or did any of the thousand menial little  _ human _ things that they all needed to do just to survive. The sheer amount of work that went into merely maintaining their existence was exceptional. Castiel was baffled and more than a little fascinated. 

So he was there to watch as Dean flitted from bar to bar while turning on a charming smile to entice any available female within his vicinity. 

And he was also there to watch as Dean took her to bed. 

Castiel knew her name;he wasn’t entirely certain if Dean did. He could brush against her mind and know her life as well if he cared to. He didn't, simply because she wasn't important. In the grand scheme of things, Dean would forget her as he'd forgotten so many others. Her purpose in this equation was to be vapid and pretty and available. Nothing more.

It wasn't jealousy he felt as he watched the woman press Dean down onto the bed, climbing onto his lap, and hiking her dress up so she could straddle his thighs. Dean was  _ his _ , and this fact was so wholly true that this–minor deviation didn’t matter. After all, Dean didn’t fully understand the nature of their bond. His soul would alternate between reaching for him, and curling away in confusion, or perhaps fear.

There was no sense in pressing the issue either. Not while Dean remained so conflicted in this regard. 

All that being said, he was also curious about this part. The sex part. 

Objectively speaking, human sex was...ugly. Messy. There was a reason why so many of his kind demeaned humans and their necessity of this act. The need to procreate - and the manner that they did so - was one that angels could neither relate to, nor understand. 

Certainly, Castiel knew the basic process. Sexual attraction formed between mating pairs, allowing the sperm to fertilize the egg. The zygote continues to develop, and at an unknown time, a soul enters the nascent body, and thus, new life is formed. 

However, some humans - like Dean, for example - didn't engage in the act for the sake of producing young. They derived pleasure from it. Of course, neurons and synapses firing and a rush of hormones were required for the release of seminal fluid, but there was more involved than simple biology. Never mind, even, the innumerable of mating pairs who would come together even though they could not create life. 

There seemed to be elaborate rituals in place that lead to this final act. It was worth investigating, especially if he was to become directly involved in the process one day. 

The woman's hands roved over Dean's chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as a wicked smile spread over her features. With a quick jerk, she yanked at the shirt, buttons scattering every which way. A startled laugh escaped Dean, but he was clearly still on board with the proceedings, smiling and laying his hands on her narrow waist. 

Castiel tilted his head, standing by them as a silent, invisible statue.

On the motel bed, the woman slowly rotated her hips, grinding her body down against Dean's. Dean's hands petted at her sides, not guiding, just enjoying. She was allowed her way as she bent down to nibble at the column of his neck, and Dean raised his chin obligingly to accommodate her. 

Cas took mental note. 

She sat up again, reaching behind her back to undo the zipper of her dress. Dean sat up, careful as to not dislodge her from her perch, kissing her shoulder once and then helping her ease the dress down her body, murmuring gentle praise into her ear. 

Overhead, the lights flickered once, and that was enough to draw Dean's attention upward. He eyed them warily, an arm around the woman's waist as he scanned the room. She, of course, didn't notice his discontent, instead leaning in for another kiss. 

Clothes fell away quickly enough after that, and soon they were both naked. Dean lay on his back again, propped up against the pillows so he could watch as she rolled a condom onto his cock, lined it up to her entrance and lowered herself down onto it. 

Castiel moved closer, sitting at the edge of the bed as she raised herself up and down. Dean's hands settled on her waist, there only to steady her.

Objectively weird or not, there was a beauty in it too, Castiel could see that now. It was in the glazed look in Dean's eyes, the slightly parted spit-shiny lips and the gentle flush on his face. Castiel reached out, still invisible, and traced his lower lip with the tip of one finger, ignoring the woman still bouncing on his lap. Dean gasped softly, mouth opening just a bit wider.

Intrigued, Castiel trailed his finger down Dean's throat and over his sternum, diverting to the side to circle around his nipple. 

The soft cry that escaped Dean was tinged with mild confusion. Cas saw him blink twice, trying to clear the sex-fog from his mind to focus on the inexplicable sensations. Cas quickly touched two fingers to his forehead to soothe him. It was only him, after all. 

Dean was safe with him. 

Above them the woman moaned out little broken staccato noises of her own, punctuated by each thrust. Cas ignored her, instead continued his slow exploration of Dean's body, tracing enochian sigils against his skin. 

Protect. Mine. Claimed. 

His path led him to Dean's shoulder where the mark of his vessel’s handprint was still burned into his skin. Castiel lined up his fingers to the mark and gripped down, sending a jolt of his grace coursing through Dean's body. 

A sharp cry ripped from Dean's throat as he came. The woman above him moaned and keened, grinding herself down on him before she too found her release, falling against Dean’s chest, boneless and sated. Dean still looked mildly dazed, even as he wrapped an arm around the woman’s waist, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Cas pressed two fingers to Dean’s own before he spread his wings and left the room.

Dean would dream of him tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me as fox-vii on tumblr!


End file.
